Reclaimed
by HeartEyes4Mariska
Summary: A missing scene for S16s Forgiving Rollins. Olivia comes to Amanda's apartment after finding out she skipped the appointment with Lindstrom, to reiterate that Amanda is definitely not fine. Pairing is Rolivia! Rated M for strong sexual content! This is for all of you who so eagerly requested a second Rolivia fic from me!


**A/N: Ok! So you guys were pretty adamant that you wanted me to write another one, and I know that Rolivia Shippers are pretty starved when it comes to fic . . . so I obliged. Lol I worked hard on this one, folks, so if you read, PLEASE review. It means a lot. This is a missing scene from S16 Forgiving Rollins. Enjoy!**

 **Spoilers: Forgiving Rollins**

 **Rating: M! Strong M and very NSFW!**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine. But I bet some of y'all will wish they were. Don't sue me, I'm broke.**

 **Reclaimed**

When the knock at the door came, Rollins caught her breath. Her stomach clenched as she wondered if either Sam Reynolds or Patton were reckless enough to come to her home. Amanda stood up from the couch, her eyes scanning nervously for her service revolver.

"Amanda, it's me – Liv. I know you're in there. Answer the door. Please."

It was then that Amanda noticed Frannie, gazing at her from her pillow, serene. Amanda let out the breath she'd been holding and swiped at her tear-streaked face - her futile attempt at hiding the fact she'd been sobbing since she got home, her face marked with mascara. With a perfunctory glance through the peephole, she swung the door open.

"Hey, Lieutenant," she mumbled, not quite looking at her.

"Amanda," Liv sighed, swaying on the doorstep with the want to cross the threshold. "Lindstrom called me. He said you never showed, and I –" Olivia's hands fisted her hips. "I was worried about you."

"I'm fine." It was her smoothest lie; she always could wear it like a second skin. _I'm fine, Momma – it wasn't Kim's fault. It's fine, Daddy - you'll win big next time, I just know it. We're fine._

"You're not fine, Amanda," Liv rejected, and Rollins winced at her broach-no-denials tone. "Can I come in?" Amanda turned from the doorway, shrugging as she walked back into her living room. Liv shut the door, trailing after the younger woman. "If you won't talk to Lindstrom, could you at least try talking to me?"

"You a shrink now, too, Lieutenant?" Amanda sank onto her couch, not seeing the narrowing of the brunette's gaze. Leaning forward, she clasped her hands together between her knees, focusing her own gaze onto the coffee table.

Olivia had already taken inventory: Rollins' swollen eyes, the mascara tracks, the half-eaten takeout on the coffee table. She held back her frustration by letting out another sigh, then slowly lowered herself onto the couch next to her. "I know what it's like, to not want to be a victim, Amanda. Trust me. But this – everything you've been doing for the last five years – has clearly not been working for you.

"You are a great SVU detective," Liv stressed, "and you know better than anyone that this isn't something that gets better by avoiding it, or by running."

Rollins scoffed. "You think that's how I ended up here? Runnin'? From Patton?"

"Patton is . . . " Liv struggled, and Amanda could actually hear her superior's jaw as it ground over the name, like grit in a fine cream. Rollins' mind supplied some of the things that she'd become accustomed to hearing in Atlanta: _the boss, a fine man, a good husband, an accomplished_ . . . "A monster, Amanda. Patton is a pathetic excuse for a cop, who preys on women – and I know that you don't run from men."

Amanda desperately wanted to believe that, but wasn't convinced it was true, especially when it came to the Deputy Chief. Men were easy for her, pliable and able to be worked to her advantage – usually. With Patton, she hadn't really seen it coming, and as much as she reviled the idea of being any kind of victim, it was her loss of control that had hit her hardest.

"Cragen recruited you because you're good at what you do, but I would kick your ass, Rollins, if you ever spoke to a victim the way you keep talking about yourself."

Amanda's nervous energy forced her to her feet, and she found herself repeating what she'd told Fin: "Patton never put a gun to my head. I . . . I knew what I was getting into."

Liv stood, took a step toward Rollins, and Frannie shifted where she lay, letting out a snuffle. "Amanda he ra-"

Amanda held up a hand, her heart pounding. "No. Don't." Her vision blurred, her eyes filling with more tears. "Liv." It was a plea. "He didn't . . . " she shrugged, looked away. Her chest was starting to noticeably heave, and she closed her eyes.

 _This isn't happening_ , Amanda thought desperately. She _admired_ Olivia. Needed Olivia to think she was strong, and capable – not, in truth, that just days ago she'd been sitting in a bar, gambling.

 ** _Fuck_**.

Amanda felt Liv's hands gently come down on her shoulders. "'Manda." Rollins opened her eyes. "Patton raped you."

Amanda's lip trembled traitorously. Her eyes finished filling, and a tear absconded, crowning her shame. She swiped at her face in defiance, feeling 12 years old. "I know," she whispered.

"He raped you," Liv repeated, her tone simultaneously sympathetic and solicitous.

"Yeah." Rollins nodded in defeat, and Frannie whined softly as her human let out a sob. It shuddered out from deep inside Amanda's ribs, and she was vaguely aware of Olivia folding her into a tight hug.

The two women had never hugged before - not even when Rollins had been shot, and Amanda's body was thrown into a collision of desire and unease. She had always hoped

 _(fantasized)_

that hugging Olivia Benson would take place under different and better circumstances. The smell that Amanda had come to associate with her Lieutenant, caught only elusively in whiffs during elevator rides and the passing of bodies in the office, was everywhere. Her sobs quieted with each breath in as she found herself newly occupied with naming the scents she could recognize. _Sandalwood. Orange. Nutmeg._ And something . . . something that was just Liv's skin. The thought finally stirred life, between her legs and fluttering in her belly.

Mercifully, the embrace ended, and Amanda turned out of Olivia's arms to conceal her flushed face. Now that the words she'd always refused to share about Patton were out, she did feel lighter. And hungry. Famished, even. Not to mention tired.

Liv had shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it onto the back of the sofa. "You hungry?" Her tone had brightened considerably. "Chinese alright? I can order while you hop in the shower, if you want."

Taken aback by Olivia's air of familiar ease in her home, Rollins found herself nodding.

"Okay," Liv smiled. "Don't be afraid to take your time. I won't bother you."

/

Ever since she had found out that Patton was coming to New York, Amanda's body had become the enemy. Not just by its loss of appetite and constant, nauseating anxiety – but enemy in the sense that any usual healthy self-worship was strictly denied. Only the bare minimum for work had been permitted, and her perfunctory showers consisted of skin-reddening scrubs of loofah.

Which made stepping into the shower with the raw scent memory of Olivia Benson in her nose all the more resuscitative. She relished the scald of the hot water, washing away flecks of mascara, and days worth of aching muscle tension. Amanda stretched and flexed all of her limbs, focusing on blood flowing, and the feel of controlling her muscles. She clenched her stomach, water pooling in her belly-button. She did a Kegel, and felt the phantom of her desire ripple through her pelvis.

Amanda briefly considered checking, curious if she was wet, but discarded the idea in favor of taking Liv's advice, maybe talking about things. Even the texture of her terry-cloth towels were heaven for the first time in more than a week.

When she returned at last to the living room, the previous takeout containers had all been cleaned up, the coffee table tidied, and the blanket that she'd been moping under was folded on the back of the couch next to Liv's jacket. As for Liv, she sat on the couch as before, this time poring over her cell. She was wearing her glasses, and Amanda couldn't stop herself from grinning.

"Well," Liv said with a glance up, "you look . . . " She cleared her throat. "Better already."

Without thinking, Amanda had thrown on what she'd normally wear if she was at home: a light pair of cotton shorts, and a well-loved t shirt with cap sleeves. Now she blushed, feeling near-naked.

"I ordered the food. Should be just about here," Liv went on. "Just the basics; I hope that's okay."

"That's fine. I'm not fussy." Amanda sat on the couch, tucking a leg beneath her, making sure to keep her bare skin at a respectful distance.

"Do you feel a little better?"

"I feel . . . "

A knock at the door caused both women to startle. With a chuckle, Liv was up and moving to the door, reaching into her back pocket for her wallet. "I got it," she emphasized, pre-empting Rollins' protests.

They paused the small talk long enough to break open all the warm containers, the disposable chopsticks and napkins, and for Rollins to rustle cold beers out of the fridge. Amanda's belly rejoiced at the first swallow of hot, greasy chow mein, and she groaned aloud. Catching Liv's eye, she cleared her throat, took a swig of beer, and spoke:

"I'm sorry that I've been such a pain in the ass."

Liv bit into a crisp water chestnut. "It's not the pain in the ass I mind," she told her, "it's how much harder you made the whole thing on yourself. I just wish you could've let me help you."

Amanda looked at Liv thoughtfully from over her chow mein container. "You said, once . . . " she faltered, taking a deep breath, "you said that you had been assaulted."

Liv let the words hang there a moment, among the Kung Pao and dumplings. She took a long swallow of her own beer, set down the container she'd been holding and nodded. "Yeah. About seven years ago, now. It happened while I was undercover in a women's prison."

"Where was your partner?"

Any mention of Elliot, regardless of the endless passage of time, brought with it its own set of disquieting memories, and Liv's heart twinged with nostalgia. "He was on the outside. And, to be honest, I never really told him . . . mainly because Harris'd be dead. Fin saved me." Olivia swallowed. "From rape."

"How did you . . . " Amanda searched for words, stirring her food around aimlessly in its container. "I mean, after? Not just with this job, but with men? With sex?"

"I didn't," the older woman admitted, "for a while. Turns out I had PTSD, and I ended up having to seek out some of that therapy that you hate so much."

Amanda sat up with a grimace, shoving another mouthful of chow mein in, and then put the container down. "I'm sorry, Liv, It's not . . . " she sighed, "it's not the therapy, per se, it's me. It's the South, ya know? We just don't . . . we're not raised 'ta air out our problems, even to each other. The Bible Belt is the last stronghold on everything that's toxic for the South."

"Will you stop apologizing?" Liv chuckled. "I've been at this long enough to know that not everybody heals the same way. But, you know," she shrugged, "you still gotta heal. Whatever it is, Amanda, you have to go through it, not around it."

"I hear ya. I promise. I just wish that the entire squad didn't end up pulled in 'ta this whole mess."

"They've been through worse. They'll survive. You want the last dumpling?" Liv asked, holding it out with her chopsticks.

Maybe in another life, another time, they could be doing this over beers just for the hell of it. It was the thought Amanda stuck on, as she plucked the dumpling from the chopsticks with her fingers and chewed it slowly, keeping her eyes on Olivia. Liv was closing a couple of the empty containers, moving slowly.

Without looking up again, Liv spoke: "I wanted to kill him."

Amanda wondered, _Harris? Lewis? Patton?_ But she waited.

"From the moment you and Fin came back to the precinct, I . . . I knew. And I, well," Liv licked her lips and chuckled, "for a moment, I wished for my old partner's brand of rage."

For so long, Rollins had been forced to dance around the facts of what had happened; she'd left Georgia with a less-than-desirable reputation, and devoid of sympathy. To finally hear someone's righteous anger toward Patton, speaking of retribution and protection, was overwhelming.

"Hopefully you don't think less of me," Liv went on. "I just wanted you to know." She turned her head, to look at Amanda again, and her wise brown eyes glinted.

Amanda turned her head as well. The distance between them was scant and conspiratorial, as she whispered, "I wanted it to be a heart attack." Her whisper strained, threatening to break on new tears. "All I could think about was him . . . pinnin' my hands over my head. About him – " _inside of me_ , was what she thought in her head, but couldn't bring herself to say it. She swallowed. "And I hoped he'd die."

Liv continued to look into Rollins' eyes for long moments, knowing how much she'd miss her, when Amanda finally took time off to deal with all of this. "Do you want to sleep?" she eventually asked quietly.

"Naw, I'm –"

"Fine?"

Amanda smirked. "Well. Clean and fed, anyway, thanks to you."

Olivia finished her beer with a smile, and got up, gathering containers to bring to the kitchen garbage. Amanda let out a breath as she watched her go, her heart galloping from their moments of close proximity. She made it to her feet, finishing off her own beer and stretching. The apartment was quiet, save for Liv's rustling, and Amanda felt self-conscious. She crossed an arm over her midriff, clasping the elbow opposite.

Casting a glance at her cell as she rejoined Rollins, Olivia noticed a text and picked it up. Making a face, she texted back a response, then sighed, looking at Amanda. "Apparently, Buchanan called Barba. Patton wants to discuss a plea. They're gonna meet in the morning."

Amanda nodded. "It's alright, Liv. I – I trust Barba to do what he can."

"I should get going," she said then, "get some sleep before I have to deal with Barba tomorrow. And let you get some rest, of course." Olivia stepped between the coffee table and the sofa, leaning as far over as she could, to get her jacket. Her balance misjudged, she stumbled at the furthest of her reach, stopping her face-plant into the couch with a hand pressed reflexively to Amanda's waist.

She chuckled, steadying herself, shook her head in embarrassment. "Sorry. Showing my age," Liv quipped, still crouched at the waist. Realizing her hand was still on Amanda's waist, she drew it back as if scorched.

"I – " Amanda licked her lips, looking down at Olivia. At the sound of her voice, Liv turned her face to look at Amanda, unfailingly attentive whenever she thought a victim was speaking. "I don't want you to go." As soon as the words were actualized, Amanda flushed a deep pink, mortified by the marriage of vulnerability to fantasy.

"Oh?" Liv stood up fully, her expression inquisitive. "Well, I could maybe . . . stay with you 'til you fall asleep, if you wanna curl up on the -"

Olivia's suggestion was cut short by Rollins' mouth pressing against hers. If forced to speak again, she would have lost to cravenness, so Amanda had leapt – conceding herself a fool. They each tasted faintly of beer and the Chinese they'd shared, but under all of that, Liv was _sandalwood, citrus, nutmeg . . . familiar_. Then Liv was kissing her back, and that fact was more terrifying than the chance taken. Her hand returned to Amanda's waist, the meagre slip of skin between her shorts and t shirt responding with goosebumps. Amanda kissed more fully, seeking where the boundaries might lay, and brought her hand up to grip one side of Liv's neck.

Both of them came from look-before-leaping life histories, and yet Olivia seemed unconcerned with caution as she nipped at the blonde detective's lip, urging access for her tongue. Blood drained South between Amanda's legs, setting up a pulse that broached no dismissals. When the kiss ended, both women were panting noticeably, and the room's air was heavy with anticipation.

"'Manda."

"Yeah."

"Take me to bed," Liv rasped.

/

The bedroom seemed cooler than the living room had been.

Liv flicked on a bedside lamp, snuffing any chance that Amanda's inhibitions would take refuge in the dark. Turning, she drew Amanda to her by the hand, smirking with satisfaction at the fact of her visibly hard nipples under the thin shirt. She motioned for Amanda to sit in front of her, on the edge of the bed, and when she did, Olivia carefully pulled the t shirt off. Her hands were smooth and cool as they slid between Amanda's breasts, then cupped each one gently, thumbs soothing over each nipple.

She bit her lip with enjoyment and nerves, letting her head fall back as she pushed into Liv's touch. Letting her own hands wander blindly up Liv's sides, then under the edge of her shirt, Amanda drew her fingernails across her soft belly. Olivia hissed, and it sent a desperate pricking of painful desire straight into her clit. The woman was divine.

Liv took off her own shirt, then urged Amanda further back onto the bed, balancing over the younger detective with hands planted on the mattress. The brush of her silk bra against Amanda's breasts sparked twitches of her stomach muscles, and Amanda arched beneath Olivia, letting out a first moan. A trail of kisses burned from pulse-point to pulse-point and then down the column of her throat, until finally Liv closed her mouth around one of the smallest and pinkest nipples she'd ever seen.

"Jesus," Amanda breathed, her hand tangling in Liv's dark tresses.

"Too fast?" Liv whispered, acutely aware of Amanda's vulnerable state.

Amanda shook her head, tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. "No - please, don't stop. I . . . I just forgot how good this could feel."

The look in Liv's eyes softened, her touch more thorough, more tender as she moved her mouth to the opposite breast. She sat back on her calves in the muted lamplight and smiled encouragingly as Amanda's hands framed her midsection, holding tight as she watched her unhook and shed her bra. Once it was gone, the hands closed in, pebbled nipples skimming between Amanda's splayed fingers. With a tip of her head, Olivia pulled one of the hands from her chest and brought it to her mouth, kissing its palm, then sinking two of the fingers inside her mouth.

Amanda strained from her position, pinned between Liv's legs, and mewled. "That's not the only thing I want to put in my mouth," Liv rumbled, burning Rollins' earlobes with disbelief and a foreign, delicious lust.

Her weight disappeared from above. Amanda's shorts were in Liv's hands, bunched and hauled down over her hips, discarded. Fresh goosebumps broke across her skin, and a trembling started up in her hips. It had been so long – too long – since sex had been anything other than a bargaining chip, or a consolation prize in place of love she refused to entertain.

Olivia's hands parted Amanda's thighs, sliding upward slowly, admiring her body in the light. She was perfect, right down to the tidy blonde hairs of her mons. Liv had made love to less than a handful of women in her years, and none that had threatened to consume and reclaim her. Until Amanda. Liv situated herself between her legs as if getting ready to enjoy a great book on a beach, and drew her tongue teasingly along the sensitive flesh where her thigh met her torso. She nipped gently as she moved inward, reading Amanda to ensure nothing was too much.

Amanda took a deep, shuddering breath as Liv parted her with her thumbs. Her desire was a deluge, torrential – she could feel herself dripping, and her hands flew to her face seeking concealment. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "Oh God, I'm –"

"Amanda," Liv soothed, "please. Don't be sorry. Not for this – ever." She dropped her head and gave Amanda's clit a first, explorative suck, and the taste alone made her wild enough to moan. The involuntary buck of her hips hardly registered as Liv nudged the tip of her tongue into the dip beneath her clit and flicked. With each stroke of tongue, each firm suck, she could feel her own sex flooding in response to the pulse, swell and slickness of Amanda's center.

Had it ever been this good? Amanda couldn't focus to discern an honest answer, she only knew there was no hope of dragging it out as Liv's tongue slid low, between her sensitive, swollen lips. " _Jesus! Fuck! Liv,_ " she whimpered, coming hard into the brunette's mouth.

Olivia hummed her satisfaction against Amanda's skin, drawing back only when the twitch of her hips settled. She drew up, over her and placed a soft kiss over the bullet scar on her shoulder. "You're gorgeous," she smiled.

Amanda was overcome by the want to please Liv in return, and dodged the compliment by twisting beneath her, her weight succeeding in pushing Liv to her back. It caused Liv to giggle, and the sound was the babble of wind chimes from the safe places of her childhood. _I'm fine_. . . .

Lazily, she traced the proud lines of Liv's collar bones, followed by the rise of her breasts. She drew tentative circles around her belly button, as though Liv's body was a puzzle in need of solving. Her hands were inspecting the slopes of her hips when Olivia said, "Are you afraid of me?"

Amanda swallowed hard. "Naw," she drawled in a whisper. "I think I'm . . . afraid of _us._ "

Liv rewarded her honesty by drawing her head down for a slow kiss. She grasped the hand that was on her hip, moving it to her pelvis purposefully. The kiss broke. "Please," she breathed.

Amanda moved her hand lower, covering her clit with the pad of her thumb. Her chest ached at how engorged it was, how wet.

"Mm, 'Manda," Liv groaned.

Amanda panted with restraint, stroking firm circles around the hard point, listening to Olivia's sounds. Ingraining them in her mind. She was caught off guard when Lib finally arched desperately into her touch and whined, "Jesus, God, Amanda – put your fingers in me, _pleeease_!"

All hesitation lost, Rollins reached low, drawing in a breath on a hiss as she sank two fingers into Liv's pussy, feeling her clench around them in response. She fucked quickly, steadily, following the rhythm of Olivia's bucking hips as they crashed onto her strokes. Amanda drew up on her knees and spread her legs, reaching between them with her free hand to attend to her own pulsing clit. Greedily, she watched Liv's face as she coordinated her thumb and fingers to reach Liv's clit and fuck at the same time.

It was Amanda's second orgasm that brought Liv over the edge with a deep-throated grunt. Amanda's name spilled from her lips as Amanda rocked back and forth against her own fingers. Neither woman knew for sure how much time passed afterward, as they lay tangled together, catching their breaths.

"There's some Chinese left, if you're hungry," Liv finally said quietly.

Amanda laughed. It felt good to laugh. "I just," she took a deep breath, stifled a yawn, "I wanna get some sleep." She felt Liv nod her agreeance.

/

Amanda listened to the sounds of the apartment – sounds that now included Liv's soft breathing, curled against her in bed. Frannie was curled up on the end of the bed, her paws twitching as they chased dream squirrels. She decided that her body wasn't the enemy, after all.

 _You're not fine_ , Liv had told her. Amanda knew that she wasn't entirely wrong. She hadn't been fine now for a long time. But she would be.

She rolled into Liv's slumbering embrace, breathing in her safe, familiar scent.

She would be.


End file.
